Cold Start
by Tribble Master
Summary: John's hurt on a hunt, but a gruff stranger in a trucker hat comes to his rescue.


**Beta'd by enviousxbeauty  
Disclaimer: I do not own them...and yes, I am to damn lazy to write in the dog... deal. **

**Cold Start  
**  
It'd taken John longer than he'd expected to track down the werewolf. He had to be home soon, and out of the frozen forest. Just one more set of footsteps to follow…

The werewolf howled a little louder as it rounded the corner on its prey. John aimed his gun and gave a dangerous smile. As he prepared to fire the beast leaped and came at him with claws out. The werewolf's claws tore at his side throwing him back against a tree.

As the monster closed in on the kill, shots rang out.

John rolled on to his back and took a deep breath as his blood continued to spill on to the fresh snow. He looked around for the other hunter that had surprised him and the werewolf.

A tall older man stood over him. The man lowered his smoking gun. "Now that's how you kill a werewolf, idjit."

John's vision started to blur, he reluctantly took the offered hand. "Thanks," he said weakly.

"Not a problem."

"John Winchester," he said weakly.

John looked at his hero closely. He wore a trucker hat and had a scruffy beard.

"Bobby Singer. C'mon Winchester, let's get you cleaned up."

They trudged through the snow. Only a few feet from Bobby's car, John passed out. "Damn amateurs," Bobby grumbled heaving him into the battered truck.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean rubbed his arms and shivered. He pulled another blanket over Sammy's bed. "Stupid cheap motels," he grumbled as pulled on his dad's old sweatshirt over his own.

He walked over to the thermostat. It was not 70 degrees! It felt like 50, or less. He pounded a small fist against the dial angrily. As soon as Dad got home, they could move onto another town, maybe even somewhere south. Dean looked over at Sam snuggled under all the blankets they had in the two bedroom motel room. He really hoped Dad would be back soon.

o-o-o-o-o

John blinked awake slowly. He was warm, he noticed, and lay out on a couch. The musty scent of books wafted in the air mixing with something hot from the kitchen. He smiled dazedly; it felt like a place he could call home.

"Who's Dean?" Bobby asked gruffly when he saw John was awake. "Ya wouldn't stop jabbering about him…"

John looked up, all dream like qualities were gone. He remembered with clarity exactly what had happened. He sat bolt upright. "Dean! I have to go, I have to…"

"Do nothing!" Bobby argued pushing him onto the couch. "Relax. You've had a high fever and you've been out for a day already…"

"A DAY!" John roared. "Look, Singer, thanks for the help but I have to go!"

Bobby looked at him puzzled. "Whatever it is, I can go get him, or it, just stay down Winchester. You were hurt pretty badly."

John shook his head fighting back a new wave of nausea. "You don't understand, my sons are alone at the Pine Oaks Motel. They need me."

"I'll take care of it." Bobby said standing up. "I'm serious Winchester, stay here. I don't want those stitches to open up. I spent hours fixing ya."

Bobby got on his coat and prepared to go pick up two snot nosed teenagers. Halfway out the door, his bed ridden charity case called softly, "Mary. The code word is Mary."

"Alright, I'll be back soon. There's food in the kitchen." He slammed the door behind himself.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean got back from his third theft that week. He wasn't very good at it; he'd only been able to swipe one can of Spaghetti Os. His pale blue lips trembled as he struggled to open the can. With a shaky hand he turned the heat on the stove. It sputtered to life with only small heat. He didn't bother taking off his coat. Layers were a must, even if it did make Sammy look like a small marshmallow.

Dean looked down as Sammy tugged on his sleeve. "D-d-dean? Where D-d-daddy?"

"Dad's fine, Sammy, he'll be here soon. Go get back under the blankets."

Sammy looked into Dean with trust filled eyes and nodded. He waddled back to bed. Dean hoped again Dad was okay. He put the can on the stove and waited for it to gain some heat.

All the money they'd had had already gone into the land lord's greedy fist for this motel. The rooms next door where always noisy and the walls sometimes shook. Dean looked down at the tiny meal he was cooking and sighed.

He waited for something to stir on the stove. When it looked semi-edible he pulled out a bowl and brought it over to Sammy. "Hungry Dean?"

"Nah." Dean reassured Sam, tossing his hair. His stomach grumbled loudly, but was muffled by the layers of clothes they wore.

All of the sudden, a knock was at door. Dean listened intently for any of the signs Dad had given him.

His heart fell when he didn't hear the second knock.

"Dean?" An unfamiliar voice called. "Your Daddy, John Winchester he sent me. He got hurt; I'm taking care of him."

Was it a trap? Dean wondered if he could he trust the voice.

Dean wasn't even sure he could trust himself. The cold numb that seemed to cover his small frame made it hard for him to think. "What's the code word?" he called back with terror filled eyes.

"Mary." Bobby said with fingers crossed.

Dean hesitantly undid the locks. He squinted up at the scruffy man. "Who are you?" he said with false ferocity.

Bobby glanced down at the pipsqueak, surprise flashed across his face. "Another hunter, Bobby Singer. I saved your Daddy's life, son."

"Don't call me son." Dean growled.

Bobby raised his eyebrow at the eight year old. "Sure, kid. C'mon let's go… your daddy was pretty worried about you."

Dean considered his options. The man had said the code word…but still, he wasn't sure.

He looked over at Sammy who sat under the sheets watching Dean's movements with wide eyed curiosity. Sammy needed better food and shelter than here though, Dean decided.

He swung the door open. "Fine. Give us a moment to get our stuff together."

Bobby shivered as he stepped into the room. He gasped when he realized the other kid was only four. _What the hell, Winchester, _he thought, suddenly furious at the man he'd saved.

As he helped Dean carry their stuff into his truck he made a promise to help this family. Or at least the kids.

o-o-o-o-o-o

John Winchester had enough of his marbles rolling back in his head to realize how terribly he'd screwed up. His side ached, his muscles groaned, and his head pounded. He stumbled over to the kitchen in search of food.

Sam and Dean…Dean and Sam… He wondered if they were alright…

He wondered even more what he'd said to Singer when he was out. There was something about him that John didn't trust. Maybe it was the hat.

He rummaged around in his pockets for the number of the motel he'd set camp at. All he found was his frozen and cracked cell phone. He cursed at it, but it still refused to work.

Grumpily he entered the kitchen where he found something that looked like stew and quickly ate a huge bowl.

When he heard the front door open he ran to it. Well, stumbled as his head became dizzy with the sudden movement.

Singer stood in the door way with a duffle bag in one hand and Sammy resting on his other shoulder. Dean stood by Bobby's leg looking lost and confused until he saw John.

"Dean!" John got onto one knee so he could pick up his son.

Dean ran to him and hugged his Dad tightly. It hurt John's side even more, but it didn't matter. They were safe.

Bobby looked at John with a tired smile. "Look, Winchester, I have a spare bedroom upstairs I'm gonna go set this one down okay?"

John held out his arms. "You can call me John. I'll take Sammy, just tell me where."

Signer shrugged and pointed upstairs. "Alright, you can call me Bobby."

Dean followed John upstairs. "Dad who's Bobby? Why does he know the code word? How'd you meet? What's going on? Are you okay?"

The last question took John by surprise. He laid Sammy in the guest bedroom. Sam stirred a little and looked up at him. "Daddy?"

John kissed his brow. "Hey kiddo."

"Dad…" Dean tugged on his sleeve. "Answer me."

"Yeah, Dean, downstairs." John said while tugging Sam out of the frozen layers. After tucking Sam under the covers to warm up, he left the room with Dean in tow.

Dean and John entered the kitchen. Bobby looked up from his bowl of stew. "Is the kid okay? What about you, Dean? Want something warm?"

Dean jumped up. "Yes please."

Bobby motioned to the table, and Dean sat down. John smiled at the way Bobby handed Dean a bowl of stew.

John looked at the gruff hunter. "Thanks," he said sincerely.

Bobby looked at him strangely. "Shouldn't have left kids in a shitty motel like that anyway."

John huffed. "Look, I'm sorry to impose…"

Bobby smiled. "Hunters gotta stick together right?"

John nodded solemnly. "How'd you get into this business anyway?"

Bobby looked at Dean and then John. "I had my own Mary," he said softly.

Dean stopped eating the stew and looked at his father and Bobby standing in the kitchen. He watched as John held out his hand to the Bobby. They shook hands. "If you ever need help, call me, okay?" John said.

Bobby nodded. "Same here."

And Dean decided, if his dad was going to be friends with Bobby, so could he. Even if the hat was silly.

**The End**


End file.
